


Booty Nights

by cemm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, John Watson coming out, Just a hot campy mess, M/M, Rimming, beautiful gay boys doing gay things together, leather booty shorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemm/pseuds/cemm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson never wanted to be gay. He never wanted to endure the abuse from the idiots of the world. He wanted to be normal. And look where that got him....living in a semi-detached in the suburbs with a woman he doesn't know with a baby that isn't his. Fortunately a pair of very small leather booty shorts changed all of that. Now if he could only get his mad flatmate on board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call of the Booty

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. Don't own the boys, but became obsessed with something I read on Tumblr about John really being gay and not wanting to come out or perhaps not really understanding he was gay. I am not an expert on any of this. I just like the idea of John going in the complete opposite direction and becoming a stereotypical flamboyant middle age gay man. I also like the idea of John in small leather shorts.

John Watson did not want to be gay. He had seen the abuse thrown at Harry over the years. He saw the look of disappointment in his father's eyes. Nope John Watson would not be gay. He would be normal. He would be a doctor, go to war, find a nice girl and have a family. Instead he met a madman, fell hopelessly in love with the man and the madness. Madman died so that John could be normal. So now John is standing on the edge of 40 living in a semi-detached in the suburbs with a woman he doesn't really know with a child that isn't his. 

It all started with a pair of shorts. John supposed they were shorts. They were so very small they could have been underpants. They were leather and black and very very soft. Like butter. They had called to him from the shop window. The mannequin was wearing them with black laced up boots and a tiny black billed hat. No shirt. John was mesmerized. He stopped and stared and then he did the unthinkable.

Inside the dressing room John felt something he  had rarely ever felt since Sherlock had died. Joy. He slid the rather small piece of clothing over his bare flesh. They were tight in all the right places and made his arse look incredible, if John did say so. Hmm....he was getting a bit soft in the middle but that could be easily fixed and he had a pair of black boots left over from his previous life as a soldier. The decision was made and at the edge of 40, John Watson was going to be gay. Oh dear God was he ever going to be gay.


	2. Gelled booty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes a new friend and leaves a former life.

"Oh daddy these lovelies will certainly maximize your assets,"chirped a rather blond and fit young man named Brad as John was paying for the shorts.

"Do you really think so? I need to get rid of this pudge though," John lifted up his shirt to show the offending flesh.

"The boys will be too busy looking at that delectable arse to notice anything else,"smiled Brad.

"Oh Brad you certainly know how to flatter a man,"John gathered up his purchase,"Um Brad are you busy right now."

"Not for you daddy."smiled the youngster.

 

Brad and John spent the day together. Brad decided that John needed a new look to go with his new sexuality. By the end of the day John had been shorn and waxed and was carrying bags of potions and lotions. He also had managed to purchase a new wardrobe with his new friend's help. John was wearing new slim fit navy trousers and a very fitted navy and white striped polo shirt. A top his head was a jaunty white strawed fedora. There was one thing left to do.

John arrived home to Mary singing to her daughter in the kitchen. She looked up at her husband and a slight smirk came across her face.

"New look husband, although I must say it makes you look a wee bit like a pouf."

"Sort of the point."

"Oh so His Nibs returns and now your're gay."

"Actually I just got tired of pretending that wasn't married to a lying bitch."John gathered up his few belongings, texted his best friend and left his former life.

 

**'left Mary. Can I stay at Baker Street' jw**

_'Of course John. Baker Street will always be your home'SH_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not really happy with this chapter but i need to quit rewriting it and just move one. There is no excuse why no one is naked yet in this fic!


	3. Booty Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds a way to get rid of the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely the shorts will fit now!

"Well Mr. Mitchell, I think you will live. I would however suggest you stay away from slide tackling for awhile,"said John while pulling off his gloves.

"You play, Doc?"asked his patient's companion.

"Used to back in uni."replied John.

"Want to play some more since this idiot has managed to get himself banged up right at the beginning of the season."

"Oh god yes"

 

John had fell in with the lads seamlessly. It felt good to run around and get dirty. All of the exercise had certainly helped with his midlife pudge. it was all good. John had told his mad flatmate that under no circumstance was he to interrupt his rugby practices with anything less than an 8. So far he had behaved himself. John liked to think that it was how he looked in his rather short and tight white shorts. 

They had just finished up their weekly game and were celebrating at the local. John felt the consulting detective way before he saw him. Sherlock had a way of consuming all of the air in a room and this was no different. He also happens to be sex on a stick and there is no way in hell he would not capture the attention of 12 gay males working on their third round.

"Oh my aren't you a pretty one," called out Pete.

"You must be Peter, John has mentioned you are quite the flirt," replied the detective

"Oy, you got it all wrong, your Johnny boy's the flirt," he laughed.

"Hey Pete leave the boy alone, we don't want to get Doc in trouble with his man." added another player.

"So Doc who is this pretty boy you have been hiding from us."asked Pete.

"So guys this is Sherlock Holmes, my partner. Sherlock, the guys."John motioned to the half drunk men who were quickly becoming interested in the proceedings.

"Lestrade called. It's an eight John,"Sherlock responded.

"Let's go then. Later boys, duty calls."John yelled as he left the pub. Sherlock waited until they had got out onto the pavement before asking the million dollar question.

 

"Partner?"asked Sherlock.

"Problem?"asked John.

"Not at all."

"Good"

 


	4. Booty Block

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has had enough.

John was so done. It had been a month since the incident in the Pub. Mr. Married to my work had not said or done anything out of the ordinary. John wasn't sure what the problem was. Did the consulting detective not have a working 'gaydar'. My god even Lestrade had figured it out. 

It was while Sherlock was busying solving another case for the Met. John had been at the clinic all day and decided to drop by to see if he could be of assistance. It was the first time he had seen Lestrade since the case after the rugby game. John was wearing his new favorite outfit. It was a blue and white striped suit tailored to within an inch of it's life. It fit like a fucking glove. He was wearing a white shirt buttoned to show a nice bit of skin and his hair was coiffed and gelled to perfection. John Watson was a walking gay man's wet dream. He had been hit on 4 times today....three just attempting to get to the crime scene. Lestrade turned to greet him and his mouth fell open.

"Um John?'

"Yeah, Greg. What's up? How is the case going?"

"Umm...good, I think. His highness is still inside tormenting the staff. How have you been?" John just giggled at Lestrade's attempt to make eye contact while at the same time not make eye contact."You look good."

"Oh Gregory, I look fucking good and you know it."John couldn't resist. His new favorite thing to do was make straight boys blush. Bingo. Interesting though perhaps the DI isn't as straight as he thought. Hmm...no, thought John he already had his baby blues set on a certain someone. A someone that was proving to be a bit difficult. No problems, Three continents Watson did like a challenge.

"So you're...."

"Yes, Greg I am gay. Out of the closet. No hiding."

"OK, well good for you."replied the older man," want to meet up this weekend and watch a game and catch up."

"Love to."Just then Mr. Cheekbones decided to swan out of the building, took one look at the blushing DI and the dandied up doctor."Oh for god's sake, leave him alone. Haven't you collected enough numbers for the day."sulked Sherlock.

"Nope! Still don't have yours,"John said to the sulking detective.

"Let's go"he said grabbing John's arm and pulling him away from the DI.

"Hey Sherlock,"yelled Lestrade,"the case? Did you solve it."

"Tedious. I will text you my findings. I need to get John home before he turns all of Londan gay."yelled Sherlock as he was stuffing John and himself into a taxi.

 

 


	5. Booty Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John decides enough is enough and he really really needs to get laid.

John did not know what Mr. Cheekbones problem was. In his heart he was afraid that he had misread the entire situation and that perhaps Sherlock was indeed straight. And after John finally quit giggling over that theory he thought perhaps the consulting detective simply wasn't into John. That was a sobering thought and one that the good doctor did not want to dwell on. Nope, not going there. He was an attractive ex Army doctor who had just come out of the closet. He had a fantastic arse and a pair of buttery soft leather booty shorts. It was time to put those bad boys to use. Besides he really really needed to get laid.

John approached the situation with military precision. He needed to capture the good detective and hopefully lure him into those delectable shorts. God, he needed a good shag. It had been months since he had seen any action and years since he had had a nice fat cock up his arse. John called up his new bestie Brad to find out the best places to dance and possibly get shagged. Brad was ecstatic to help the good doctor and the pair spent Saturday morning getting all prettied up for their evening .

Saturday was John's first day off in over a week and he was looking forward to his morning out with Brad and even more to his evening out. He told the lump on the sofa that he was going to run errands and would be back after lunch. He really hoped the lump was his moody flatmate and not just a lump of blankets. It was so hard to tell since he would have gotten the same response from blankets, nothing. That was not anything new. Sherlock frequently ignored John and then got all indignant when he could not find his blogger to procure whatever he was too lazy to get.

John and Brad spent a giggly morning out getting all freshened up for their night out. It was decided that they would hit up the TomKat first. Brad assured John that the shorts would be well received there. The music was good and boys were just delish Brad had purred. John attempted to picture Mr. Cheekbones at the club. He pictured Sherlock as a 'dark fuck prince', all leather and smoky eyes. It was a good thing John was sitting down during his wee fantasy as a certain part of his anatomy was having a hard time staying seated.

After they were groomed and polished Brad said his goodbyes and John made the trek home to Baker Street. He felt oh so pretty and gay. Today he was wearing a pair of pale pink shorts that were a bit on the short side. It was a glorious day in London and John had been wanting to break out these beauties. His legs were freshly waxed and spray tanned and they look fucking fantastic in the shorts. He had paired them with a simple v neck t shirt that was on the snug side. His rugby playing had gotten rid of the jiggly and had left him with rock hard abs. The sleeves hugged his biceps nicely. They were short enough to show off his new RAMC tattoo. The consulting detective had been away on a case when John had gotten it and he was still pinching himself that his nibs had not noticed it. Of course John had made sure to keep it covered up. He did want it to be a surprise after all.

John winked at the taxi driver and he slid out of the cab. He thanked him for the offer but politely explained his heart belonged to another. John sprinted up the 17 steps to the flat hoping the consulting detective had decided to join the land of living. As he opened the door to the flat he noticed that while the lump was indeed gone it had apparently decided to leave the flat all together.

_Where are you? JHW_

_Case. SH_

_Can I help? JHW_

_No SH_

_Ok text me if you change your mind JHW_

This was a problem. He needed the detective home. The plan was Sherlock would see John in the booty shorts and get all hot and bothered that John would never make it to the club. John did not tell Brad this version of his plan. He did not want to disappoint his new friend and also he needed a back up if it all went tits over arse. I suppose he really just cares for me as a friend, thought John. On to battle it would seem. John needed to accept this and move on. He would take his hotness and his mighty fine arse and find someone who would appreciate it, hopefully a someone who was hung as a horse. Hey a boy could dream and if he couldn't have the one he wanted well he would have one who could make him forget.

 

 

 


	6. New Booty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is not a clueless as John thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always no beta, don't own just playing with the boys. Of course everyone is in leather. I might have a problem. I blame Cumberbatch and those ridiculous long legs that were just made for leather and heels.

Sherlock could not believe he was doing this. This was absurd. He should just go home and lock himself in his room. But he couldn’t. This was for John. Ever since his mad flatmate had decided to come out of the closet, his mind palace had been in shambles. The consulting detective always figured the good doctor was bisexual but no apparently that would have been too simple. Nope the former straight three continents Watson was now GAY. As in rainbow pride gay. Wearing of small speedo gay. Truth be told Sherlock was kind of betting on the speedo part. 

This was a problem. Not that John was gay. Sherlock was not homophobic. That would just be ridiculous seeing as he too was gay. The problem was, could 221 B really hold two flamboyantly gay males. Sherlock was the drama queen. He was the one who swanned. He was Mr. fucking Cheekbones in the tight pants. But for John. All for John.

Sherlock had been stunned and then hopeful when his flatmate had come out. Now he was just stunned. He thought John was hinting that he wanted a relationship with him but he had been wrong before. Apparently he is the one gay male in London with a faulty gaydar. He knew about the French. It is so hard to decide: are they gay or are they French. Americans. Now that should be easy….nope! He did not factor in the Southern American male. He had no idea one could dress in a blue seersucker suit with a bow tie and wear sockless loafers and talk with a slight lisp and still be straight. The bruise on his precious cheekbone proved otherwise. This was all so confusing and here he was: a certifiable genius consulting with a man named Bo Bo who currently was wearing hot pink spandex leggings and a feather boa. Nothing else unless you count the enormous amount of eye make up and hair gel.

“Sherlock dear come out and let Daddy see you,” he lisped.

Dear god kill me now thought Sherlock. ‘For John’, he repeated like a mantra. Sherlock emerged from the dressing room. He was amazed he could still breathe. While his suits and shirts were tailored snug, this went past snug. He was dressed in the tightest pair of leather trousers. It required the pants to be removed and Bo Bo handed him some lubricant to help get the damned things up.’ For John,’ he repeated. On top was a mesh top of some sort. There were no sleeves and the mesh was really transparent. So the consulting detective did not understand the point of actually calling it a shirt. Of course the blasted thing got caught on one of Sherlock’s new nipple rings. He had gotten them pierced a few weeks ago while he was away on a case. They were, of course, for John. They had healed nicely. The detective wobbled slightly as he walked towards Bo Bo. Sherlock had worn heels before but this was too much. He was wearing a pair of knee high black leather boots that laced up the back and added a least a half a foot to his already tall frame. Bo Bo took one look at him and shrieked.

“Oh my God, Sherlock Holmes, you are so going to get that fine arse licked tonight.” Sherlock turned a peculiar shade of red and attempted to scurry back into the safety of the dressing room.  
“Oh no Mr. Cheekbones. You are staying out of that closet. It is time. For John, remember. It is time that you be the best damned gay man you can be.” 

For John. Sherlock hoped he was right. He loved his blogger with all of his heart. He had jumped to protect the man and now he was wearing make-up on his back to conceal the remnants of his time away. He never thought John would ever consider him more than a friend. John was straight. John was married. Now John was gay but was he gay for Sherlock? 'On to battle' thought Sherlock as teetered out of the store and headed out to claim his man.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock finally get together in leather.

Sherlock felt ridiculous in this get up. Fortunately the cab drivers of London did not feel the same. He was quickly picked up and whisked to his destination. Sherlock had been paying close attention to John and what he was up to on this fine Saturday. He knew that John was planning on meeting his new bestie Brad at the TomKat Klub. Sherlock was ready and into battle he went.

The club was just as Sherlock expected. Dark, loud and smelly. It did not take long for Sherlock to feel a hand against his backside and a strange voice mumbling pornographic phrases into his left ear. All the consulting detective could register was that neither of these things belonged to his John. He turned around and growled at this presumptuous not John. It was then he saw his John.

John and Brad had met outside the club and after some flirtatious banter with the bouncer made their way into the dark space. The cab ride over had been interesting for John. He had never in his life felt more exposed but fortunately based on the leers, he looked fucking good. The good doctor puffed up his chest, adjusted his teeny tiny leather shorts and went into battle.  
Brad had suggested that John wear a very tight and very small black v neck t shirt with his very tight and very small shorts. He also suggested that the former soldier polish up his army boots. He had said that every boy loves a soldier. John had also rimmed his baby blues with a dark kohl eyeliner which made them pop, according to Brad. 

It was after his eyes adjusted that John saw him. The god in leather trousers. The only person he had ever seen with such long legs had been Sherlock. John quickly pushed that thought away to fully concentrate on the sex god in leather in front of him. The sex god with thigh high leather boots and raven black curls. The sex god with cheekbones you could cut glass on, the sex god looking straight at him.

“Fuck,” yelped the good doctor.  
“What the matter honey,” asked a very surprised Brad  
“Sherlock”  
“Where,” quickly followed by, “Oh my, that boy is sex on a stick. Honey you better and go grab a piece of that before that other bloke does.”  
“No one gets my piece of arse,’  
“You go get ‘em babe,”

John tried very hard to saunter seductively in his army boots but he was in a fucking hurry to get to his honey in leather before the pumped up beefcake snatched him up. Fortunately, Mr. Sex in leather was still quite prickly on Not Johns touching him and beefcake was sent off with a seething deduction about a rather small appendage. John smiled and thought ‘that’s my boy’. Unfortunately the good doctor had begun to pick up quite a bit of speed in his quest to Mr. Sex and well, things did not go down exactly how John had pictured, in his quite frankly pornographic mind. Let’s just say that if you mix a short determined Army doctor in leather shorts with a rather tall consulting detective perched on very high stiletto boots, bad things can happen if you are not careful.

“Oof,” grunted John from position atop the consulting detective who was now sprawled on the dance floor.  
“John,” breathed Sherlock who was attempting to move from said floor and grope the good doctor’s arse at the same time. Apparently Sherlock needed to work on his multitasking skills.  
“Oh fuck it,” replied the always eloquent doctor and just went with his gut or in this case his rapidly filling cock and kissed Mr. Sex. He kissed him in the X rated, oh my god this is the best porno ever way. Sherlock quickly figured out what was happening, adjusted his hold on the good doctor’s arse and settled in for the foreseeable future. Brad just stood there and smiled and maybe checked out an arse or two.

“John,”  
“Yes, Sherlock.”  
“Do you think we could go home and maybe continue this with less leather on. I am beginning to sweat in areas I was unaware had sweat glands.”  
“Of course, anything for you.”  
“John?”  
“Hmm….”  
“Does this mean we will be gay together.”  
“Oh love! We have always been gay together.”


End file.
